


finis vitae sed non amoris	 (the end of life is not the end of love)

by AudreyV



Category: Ghostbusters (2016)
Genre: Accidents, Adoption, Afterlife, Aftermath of Violence, Angst, Angst and Tragedy, Cancer, Character Death, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Everybody Dies, F/F, Ghosts, Grief/Mourning, Lesbian Character, Loss, Lost Love, Love, Morbid, Motherhood, Parent-Child Relationship, Sad, Same-Sex Marriage, Terminal Illnesses, Tragedy, Types of love, by the end they're all ghosts, four becomes three, three becomes two, two becomes one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-16 16:33:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8109634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AudreyV/pseuds/AudreyV
Summary: For people who studied ghosts for a living, none of the Ghostbusters had given much thought to the afterlife.  Or death at all, really, although deep down they all thought Holtzmann would be the first.--This is the ending to each Ghostbuster's corporeal story. Maybe grab a box of tissues.





	1. 2017

**Author's Note:**

> I found this prompt on the ghostbusters kink meme:  
>  _Who/What They Haunt_  
>  _This is a little morbid, but I want a fic that deals with the deaths of each of the ghostbusters and who/what they haunt, if they linger long enough to haunt at all. Gen or any pairing._
> 
> “Wow. That IS morbid,” I thought. “Audrey, you’re already the dubcon girl, don’t become the everybody dies girl too. Step away from the prompt.” Pause. “Maybe I’ll just write something short. Just as an exercise.”
> 
> 3 hours later: 6k words of epic sadness, like I-made-myself-cry-while-writing-it sadness, the kind of sadness only an emotional masochist would like.
> 
> So, if you're not an emotional masochist, I'm sorry. For the rest of you, you're welcome. Be warned with all of the fanfic tropes I jammed in this thing, I felt like I should have been shrieking "BINGO" every chapter. (Confessions of love! Overwrought death scenes! Lesbians naming their babies after their dead friends! Precocious children who talk to ghosts!)
> 
> And they all die. Everybody dies. By the end, no one is left standing. Just making it very clear so you know what you're getting into here.

Deep down, they all thought Holtzmann would be the first. Holtzmann especially, mostly because she didn't want to contemplate living a day without any of the three people who'd become her family. It was easier to be the first one to shuffle off the mortal coil. 

“I’d haunt the fuck out of you,” Holtzmann said. “Especially when you're in the shower,” she added. She winked at Erin and the physicist blushed.

They hadn't gotten the blush right. Alive Erin’s cheeks were a warm, orangey pink when she was embarrassed, but on the still Erin in the box the rouge they'd used was too blue. Holtzmann noticed and went to Duane Reade and stood in front of a long display of Covergirl and Revlon and Rimmel, overwhelmed by tubes and little boxes of things she didn't understand. That’s where Patty found her, sitting in the middle of an aisle surrounded by twenty different shades of blush from a dozen different brands. 

“I don’t know which one,” she said plaintively. “How can I not know which one she used?” Holtzmann pressed her eyelids in an effort to keep the tears in, but then she felt Patty sit down next to her and wrap an arm around her and the dam burst. 

“I got you, baby,” Patty murmured. She went to work with her free hand, eliminating blushes that were too dark, too red, too neon. Once she’d narrowed it down to three possibilities, all of which were close in tone, she studied them and chose the one in the smallest package. “It’s this one,” she said with a confidence that she didn’t actually feel. 

Holtzmann nodded, took the tiny pot from her, and shuffled up to the checkout. They went back to the funeral home together and stood in front of their friend in silence. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing,” Holtzmann said, offering Patty the blush. Patty took it from her and gently applied it, even though she knew the blonde engineer meant more than just the makeup. 

“Is Abby coming?” Patty asked quietly. 

“I haven’t heard from her.” The words were clipped, sharp around the edges, and they made Patty wince. 

“Holtzy—“

“Stop. I know what you’re going to say.”

Patty sighed. “Baby… she’s hurting too.”

Holtzmann chewed on her lower lip. Her eyes stayed focused on cheeks that were now the right color. Fixing it hadn’t made her feel more at peace with any of this. 

She closed her eyes and tried to conjure up an image of Erin alive. Erin covered in ectoplasm. Erin in her tiniest bowtie. Erin in Holtzmann’s bed, breathless and staring at her like she’d done something extraordinary. 

Holtzmann pushed the memories aside and opened her eyes. After a last look, she turned to Patty and shrugged. 

“She should be hurting,” Holtzmann said, heading for the door. “This was all her fault.”

—

They buried Erin. That night, Holtzmann waited up. She sat on her bed and watched the foot of it, hoping (and yet not hoping) that she’d see the shimmer of a familiar form. 

She didn’t know how it felt to be a ghost. She only wanted to see Erin there if it was pleasant, or at least not painful. Holtzmann didn’t want to think about her friend (“friend,” she thought bitterly, because they hadn’t gotten around to defining it any other way) suffering, even if it meant she got to see the physicist again. 

Holtzmann spent four nights at watch before Patty stopped listening when she told her to go away. On the fifth night, Patty crawled in bed with her and pulled her into a tight embrace. 

“You can keep waiting for her to show up,” Patty said. “I know you need to. But I’m going to be right here until further notice.”

Holtzmann didn’t have the energy to argue. She’d spent all she had keeping her tired blue eyes focused. Eventually she couldn’t fight the exhaustion anymore, and she nudged Patty.

“What if she comes and I’m asleep?” Holtzmann shook her arms as if they’d both gone numb. “I can’t stay up much longer, Patty. What happens then?”

Their resident historiansat up with her back against the headboard. 

“I’ll watch. And I’ll wake you if she shows up.”

Within minutes a grateful Holtzmann was curled up with her head in Patty’s lap, snoring quietly. Patty was pretty sure it was all for naught, but she kept watch until dawn anyway. 

—

It took five weeks for Holtzmann to give up on Erin’s ghost. It was probably better, she decided. This meant Erin had moved on to whatever came next. Nothing bound her to the living world. 

The thought that Erin had no unfinished business stung more than Holtzmann wanted to think about. 

It took another month before the tiny engineer found herself in front of a familiar apartment door. She tapped it a few times. 

“You got here really fast— Holtzmann?” Abby stood frozen. Her hair had grown in two inches of white at the roots and she was dressed in threadbare pajamas. 

“Hey. I’m still mad. Just not at you anymore.” Holtzmann shrugged. “It could have been any one of us in your shoes. Or hers.” She took a step forward, forcing Abby to step back into the apartment as the door swung open. 

“Holtz…” Abby tried to find the right words, but eventually she gave up. She flopped down on her couch and gestured for the other woman to join her. “I’m still mad at me,” she said quietly after a long silence. “And I’m pretty sure she is too.”

“What makes you say that?” Holtzmann tried to keep the hope out of her voice, but it leaked in anyway, like light through the cracked frame of a basement window. 

Abby took her PKE meter off the coffee table and handed it to Holtzmann, who flipped it on. Instantly the arms began to spin into a pink blur. Holtzmann’s hand shook as she turned to Abby, eyes wide. 

“I was looking in the wrong place.”

—

It was Erin, but it was less of her every day. Holtzmann wanted to find a way to press her energy back into a corporeal form, but they all knew it didn't work that way. 

They couldn’t communicate. Not with words, at least. The first night Holtzmann fell asleep in Abby’s bed, she woke up to lips on her jaw, kissing a trail down her neck. She was happy for a brief moment, and then she remembered. She sat bolt upright with the horrified thought that it must be Abby, but she was alone in the room. 

When Holtzmann went to the bathroom to splash water on her face, she saw a line of red marks from her ear down to her clavicle. They looked like burns, but Patty took one look and declared them frostbite. 

It took three weeks and a lot more frostbite before Holtzmann was ready to let go. She didn't want to, but she could sense that Erin needed her to. 

“I love you,” Holtzmann said quietly. (They hadn’t said it, but she should have, because it was true.) “You are— you were? Are, were, except there’s no real line between them, is there? Just because you don’t— you’re not in a body, but does it mean that— I guess it doesn’t matter. I love you, and I don’t know where you’re going or when I’ll get to go— IF I get to go, because between you and me, I know where you’re going, if such a thing exists— and I hope it does, I hope, but then maybe I won’t get to…” She squeezes her eyes shut and holds her hand out in front of her, fingers splayed. She feels them start to ache with cold and takes a deep breath. “I hope you’ll be waiting for me. I mean, I’ll understand if there’s some really hot, like totally banging’ hot angel or something that you wanna… Anyway, leave the porch light on, babe, because you know how reckless I am. Can't imagine you’ll be waiting long.”

Holtzmann felt one last rush of cold that seemed to go through her entire body. For a second she couldn't breathe, but then the ice let go of her. She dropped down to her knees on the hardwood floor. She felt like she’d run a marathon as she curled up and let herself cry.


	2. 2026

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And then there were two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for the lovely comments. Your feedback makes my heart swell. 
> 
> Many thanks to ABakersTrilogyHasFourBooks for reading an early version of this and helping me find my way through the land of the tragic tropes. The story is much improved thanks to her. 
> 
> A note on timing: The chapter titles are the year(s) the action is taking place. Since we don't have canon ages for the characters, I've picked them to the suit the timeline I'm creating, so at the start of the fic Erin, Abby and Patty are all late thirties, and Holtzmann is early thirties.

Reckless or not, Holtzmann wasn’t next. 

They'd moved on in the years since Erin, but they never replaced her. They'd hired a few extra hands to help around the firehouse but at busts it was always just the three of them. Holtzmann thought it was probably a shit idea, considering ghost busting was dangerous enough with four of them that Erin DIED, but it didn't matter. That seat in the Ecto-1 was already occupied.

Maybe they hadn't really moved on, Patty thought as she watched Abby sleep. Maybe they just moved forward, because there wasn't another option. That could explain why the pale woman in the bed just laughed when the doctor delivered the news the next day.

“We didn't know with Erin. There was no time to plan,”Abby explained to the befuddled physician, who quickly left the three of them alone. “I've been working on the experimental protocols. I'm not sure how much control I’ll have over location so I’ve made a list of all the important ones so you can find me. After.”

“I don't know why we’re having this conversation,” Holtzmann said sharply. Patty looked to where the slight woman was leaning in the doorframe. Always with a foot out the door, ready to run. Except she hadn’t, ever.“There's a doctor in Switzerland that—”

“Holtz.” Abby raised her hand and gestured weakly, and after a moment the engineer glided forward and sat on the bed next to her. “It's okay.”

“Nothing about this is okay.” Holtzmann’s eyes stayed fixed on the point where their fingers intertwined. She remembered a different hand holding hers and how impossibly cold it was. “It's stupid. I'm the one who irradiates myself on a regular basis. Why are you the one who’s… who has cancer?”

“Holtz. You can say it. Dying. I'm dying.” She took a deep breath. “Please don't make me spend the valuable, possibly limited spectral period worrying about you instead of doing research.”

Holtzmann rolled her eyes. She leaned over and snuggled up to Abby, careful to avoid the tubes and wires when she wrapped her limbs around her. No one spoke for a long time.

“Do you think you’ll see her?” Holtzmann’s voice was so small and soft that Patty almost didn't hear her.

Abby frowned. “I don't know. I'm not even sure if I should want to.” She glanced up at Patty and pointed to a notebook and pen. Patty readied them as Abby continued. “Considering what I do for a living, you'd think I would have given a little more thought to the afterlife. Or lack thereof.”

Patty snorted. “Oh, that's a load of bullshit and you know it. We’ve contained dozens of ghosts. You know we don't blink away into nothingness or some shit.” She smiled broadly, intentionally, and ran her fingertips along the bottom of Abby’s headscarf. “So stop being overdramatic.”

The giggle started with Abby, but spread almost instantly to Holtzmann, whose head was resting on Abby’s chest. When both of them were finally consumed with laughter, Patty let herself join them. (This was what she'd always done. She thought they didn't notice it, but one day about a year after they lost Erin, Holtzmann came up to her in her library, embraced her and said very seriously “You’re our heart.”)

“So we need to work out a sign,” Abby said. “Let's assume I won't be able to communicate verbally.”

“Etco-project on Kevin,” Holtzmann mumbled.

“I was thinking of a good old fashioned Ouija board,” Abby countered. “But if you want something cheeky, try ordering an extra wonton soup a few times and maybe I’ll throw it around or something.”

“As if we’ll even be able to look at Chinese food without losing it,” Patty grumbled, her voice warm and full of fondness.

“I have most of the procedures mapped out on my computer — password is “iheartsoup” all one word. But let me just give you a run down,” Abby continued slowly.

For a moment, talking science and discovery, they could pretend life wasn't about to change.After Patty read back the plan (all fourteen pages of it), Abby nodded.

“That’s everything.” Abby shifted. She inhaled sharply and Holtzmann reached for the call button.

“I can get them to bring you—”

“No. I want to keep my mind clear a little longer.” She paused to gather her thoughts then forged ahead. “I'm so sorry for everything you’ll have to handle once I'm gone. The mayor, the new team, and… It’s so beyond what you signed up for as my friends.”

“It's a good thing we’re family then,” Patty said firmly.Holtzmann made a noise of agreement from where she was still curled around Abby.

“You talk like it’s a burden. It’s not a burden,” the engineer murmured. “No way. A privilege and a gift.”

“Holtzy’s right. We’ll do right by you,” Patty agreed. She watched as Abby smiled weakly, then drifted off to sleep.

 

—

 

Four days later, Abby slipped away with a friend wrapped around her like a koala and another keeping a firm grip on her hand.

As she watched Abby’s breathing get slower and slower, Holtzmann thought she saw a familiar form out of the corner of her eye. She didn't dare turn her head to look. She hoped it meant Abby wouldn't be alone, even though the thought that Erin had been for all these years made her feel like she might come apart at the seams.

They stayed there a long time, until finally Patty released Abby’s hand so she could stroke Holtzmann’s hair.

“Do you believe in heaven, Patty?”

“I don't know, baby. But I know there's something after this. And not just walking around being ghosts and sliming people.” She twirled a greying curl around her finger. “You ready to go home? It’s late but I think the Chinese place on east 7th will still be open,” she added, and when Holtzmann laughed Patty saw a glimmer of the 32 year old woman she'd first laid eyes on.

 

—-

 

When Abby got sick, they'd hired a whole new team. Abby insisted that Holtzmann and Patty should just find two more, but Holtzmann mumbled something about responsibilities and Patty groused that there wasn't an AARP membership discount for Ghostbusters.

They'd made it work with three, but cut down to two the center would not hold.

“And then there were two,” Holtzmann murmured. They were stretched out on the couch, the engineer on top of Patty with her face tucked into the historian’s neck. “Not to be morbid, but I hope I'm next.”

Patty squeezed Holtzmann and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She thought again how strange it was that they were here, like this. Patty found women attractive, had even slept with her fair share, but she never expected to end up in love with one, especially not a manic, messy, absentminded genius who was almost a foot shorter than she was.

Patty wasn’t a scientist, so she didn't have any backup for her belief in multiple universes, but that didn't matter. Proof wasn't important to her. She believed what she believed and even if she couldn't explain it, she knew in her gut that there were infinite Pattys and infinite Holtzys. Some, like them, lived in this comfortable, cluttered apartment on east 9th street. Some left New York years ago. Others never met at all, which made Patty sad to think about even though the overall concept was comforting.

She liked to think that in another universe, Erin Gilbert was a doting aunt rather than a namesake.

Patty sighed as she realized in that world she was probably the doting aunt, but the thought that she and Holtzmann wouldn't have been didn't bother her the way it would have bothered some.

“Whatcha thinking about?” Holtzmann asked.

“In another universe, Erin didn't die. So she’s the one stuck with your ass.”

“You sound oddly happy about that,” Holtzmann said lightly.

“Well yeah. Because near as I can figure, that Patty is married to the Rock.”

It thrilled Patty when she felt Holtzmann start to shake with laughter. She let herself laugh too.

“Is Kevin okay with keeping the minors tonight?” Holtzmann asked.

“Yeah, he said it’s fine.”

“Did he say how they were?”

“E.V. is… she's eight and she just lost her mother.  She's exactly how you'd expect.”

“Fuck.  I didn't think... We have to go get them,” Holtzmann said, starting to get up, by Patty held onto her.

“It's 3am, baby. They're asleep. And I need this,” she said quietly, gesturing to the two of them and the empty apartment. “This is us taking care of our own oxygen masks before assisting others.”

“You're right. As you frequently are.” Holtzmann relaxed again. “And Becca?”

“Becca drew a picture of you putting spectral Abby in a ghost trap.”

“Well that sounds like thousands of dollars in therapy.Awesome.” Holtzmann felt Patty stiffen under her. “What aren't you saying, Pattycakes?”

“Kevin said Becca wasn't feeling well this afternoon. She slept most of the day.”

Holtzmann idly grasped and tugged at one of the buttons on Patty’s shirt. “Maybe she picked up a cold or something.”

“Let's hope. But we should schedule something anyway.”

“It’s my fault,” Holtzmann said softly.

“Nope. We aren't doing this again.” Patty said.

“I spent ten years handling radioactive material. I had no business having a kid.”

“Maybe not, but we are so far past being able to change that.” Patty’s voice softened. “She was tired. That doesn't mean the leukemia is back. There's nothing we can do about it tonight. First thing tomorrow we’ll call the doctor.”

“Okay.”

“You know what else Kev said? Apparently this afternoon she had a hilarious conversation with someone who wasn't there.”

Holtzmann perked up. “Imaginary friend? I had one. Her name was Magellan.”

“Of course it was.” Patty paused. “When Kev asked her who she was talking to, she said it was Aunt Abby.”

Holtzmann sat up, her eyes wide. “We’ve got to get the surveillance gear and—”

“No,” Patty said firmly. “It is three in the morning and she is five. She probably was just imagining things to cope with losing Abby.”

“But Patty—”

“Nope. You will not turn our child into a cog in a science experiment.” Patty pulled Holtzmann back down against her, ignoring the other woman’s grumbles.

“Am I a terrible person for being glad E.V. doesn’t go by ‘Erin’?” Holtzmann asked a few minutes later.

“Nope.Am I a terrible person for being glad that Abby named her kid after Erin, so you wouldn’t want to name ours after her?”

“Nope.”Pause.“You know who Becca is named after.”

“‘Course I do.It’s different,” Patty said.

Holtzmann’s eyes narrowed.“How?”

“Dr. Gorin isn’t dead.I mean, she’s old as fuck, like what, 70? 80? 102?But not dead.”Patty laughed.“And you didn’t bang her.”When Holtzmann didn’t immediately respond, Patty’s eyes locked on her.“Holtzy, I swear, if—“

“You didn’t say that I couldn’t name our kid after someone I banged!” Holtzmann said.

“Baby, that is not something I should have to specify.That is literally the first rule of baby naming.”

“I thought the first rule of baby naming was ‘no Hitler’?”

“Fine.No naming kids after people you banged is the second rule of baby naming.” Patty huffed, but her irritation was short lived.“This is the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever gotten mad at you about, you know that?”

“I do know that!” Holtzmann’s eyes sparkled.“It wasn’t even a big deal.We only did it like, 40 or 50 times.”

“Holtzy!”

“Okaaaaaay.Like twice.” She batted her eyelashes at Patty.“Is twice forgivable?”

“I guess twice is forgivable,” Patty grumbled.

“More or less forgivable if I give you a play by play?” Holtzmann asked.

“Absolutely do not give me a play by play.”Patty rolled her eyes and chuckled.“Our friend died today, you just told me our kid is named after a woman you fucked even though she’s like a million years older than you, and I’m laughing.  You're a beautiful weirdo and I am lucky to have you.”

“Thanks,” Holtzmann replied quietly, her cheeks turning pink.“You’re not too normal yourself.” She cleared her throat.“So, uh, you know, I have all of Abby's notes for the post-Abby experiment, but I don't think she's going to haunt us. Maybe she sticks around for a day or two, but definitely not long enough to get through twenty three different sets of experimental parameters.”

“You know Abby.Thorough was her middle name.” Patty considered it. “But yeah, I think you're right,” she agreed. Her eyes drifted across the coffee table, which was covered in barely-touched boxes of Chinese food. They alighted on a large container of soup, one with the ideal wonton-broth ratio. (They bought two quarts and Holtzmann transferred individual wontons back and forth with a spoon until it was perfect.)

As Patty watched, the tub jiggled as if there had been a small earthquake.

“Holtzy?” She pointed toward the table and blue eyes followed.The two of them watched as the surface of the soup broke into ripples.

“Whoa,” Holtzmann breathed.

There was a cracking, high-pitched noise that made Holtzmann think of the sound ice made against her teeth when she chewed it.They watched as the broth began to crystalize. In moments the entire container was frozen solid.

“Was that on Abby’s list?” Patty asked.

“Nope. But it's appropriate.” The blonde smiled as she rested her head back against Patty’s chest. “Abby always had some in the freezer, for later. Just in case.”


	3. 2026, 2029, 2040

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It takes a lot of strength to be the last woman standing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is split between 3 different time periods: 2026, 2029 and 2036. The first scene was supposed to be the end of chapter two, but since I'd switched a few things around I missed adding it, but I think it still works in the overall arc of this. 
> 
> I love all of the feedback, encouragement and theories that are showing up in the comments. The whole story is finished, because I'm one of those people who is terrified of multi-chapter fic and my own ability to stick to things, but there have been a few details that I reworked based on comments that helped me see something I'd missed. So thank you!

**2026**

The frozen soup was the only hint of Abby that Holtzmann or Patty saw, although their small daughter continued to have conversations with their absent friend for a month or two.

When Holtzmann noticed the chats had stopped and asked why, the little girl explained that Abby wasn't around anymore.

“It’s just the other lady now.”

“What ‘other lady,’ baby?” Holtzmann asked, her heart thudding hard in her chest.

“She wears tall shoes and skirts. Very tall shoes. And her shirt has a itty bitty bow, right here,” the little girl said, pointing to her own throat.

Holtzmann forced a smile. She gathered up Becca in her arms and got her settled in bed. Patty was waiting for her in the living room.

“You okay?” Patty asked.

“As okay as I can be.” Holtzmann settled on the couch next to her. “Becca says Abby’s gone.”

“So we’re back to just the four of us in the apartment?”

Holtzmann hesitated, then replied. “Yep,” she said quietly. “I set the alarm for six. Think you can sleep for a few hours?”

“Nope.” Patty shook her head. “I know it’s just a port. Takes ‘em two seconds to put it in, then they don’t have to stick her in a new place every time she has a treatment. But I still worry.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

 

—-

  
**2029**

The day Patty picked up the small urn, she returned home to find Holtzmann surrounded by hundreds of scattered Legos and the twisted remains of her PKE meter.

She expected anger or tears, but Holtzmann’s voice was flat when she finally spoke.

“I'm all out, Pattycakes. I've got no more.” She shrugged. “Every time I think the hole in me can't get any bigger. And then I'm wrong. Except this time, there's just nothing left in there. The moment she… it all just disintegrated. I'm hollow.”

Patty sighed and took a few steps into the chaos. She carefully cleared a spot on the floor and sat, then pulled the blonde into her lap.

“How are you handling this so well?” Holtzmann asked.

“Baby, you know I'm not. I’m trying to keep it together. I keep telling myself that there's a universe where she's still here with us, but then I get so fucking mad that universe can't be this one.” Patty felt her control starting to slip. She was relieved when Holtzmann turned to face her, wrapping her arms around Patty’s neck and her legs around her waist and clinging tightly.

“I'm so scared I’ll be the only one left,” the blonde confessed, her voice breaking. “I'm not strong enough to do this on my own if I lose you.”

“Hey. If I die— and let's be clear, I ain't planning on it, and you know what a stubborn bitch I can be— but if I do, you won't be alone. Kevin will be around, and the new kids—”

“They aren't us.”

“The point is, even if something happened to me, it wouldn't just be you and E.V. all alone.” Patty felt the other woman tense up. “Holtzy?”

“After Abby died, Becca told me that she saw Erin. Ghost Erin. I thought it was probably her imagination but she described her, right down to the tiny bow tie.” Holtzmann pulled away and looked Patty in the eyes. “I'm sorry I didn't tell you.”

Patty gently moved Holtzmann off her lap, then she got up and retrieved a piece of yellow construction paper that was pinned to the fridge.

“Look,” she said, sitting back down and handing over the paper. “That's from last fall.”

Holtzmann held it in her hands. Her eyes blurred as she read “My Family by Rebecca T. H., Age 7 and 4 months” along the top of the page.

Becca had carefully drawn them holding hands beside the firehouse. Patty twice as tall as everyone else, almost as tall as the building, with big circles on her ears. Holtzmann with a smile wider than her head and a mass of yellow loops for hair. E.V. in a blue dress (even though Becca knew her sister hated both dresses and the color blue), every possible shade of brown used to create her tanned skin, long wavy hair and dark eyes. Becca had drawn herself in pink overalls, with wild black hair that was as big as her body. A tall, blonde stick figure with glasses was nearby, walking a two-legged dog. In the background, there were two figures drawn in shades of blue. One also wore glasses, along with a muddy scribble of red, green and yellow to signify a plaid shirt. The other was less detailed, had less of a form at all, but for the first time Holtzmann saw the tiny bow Becca had drawn under the specter’s chin.

“Well I’ll be damned,”she mumbled. “When did you notice that?”

“The day she brought it home from school. When I asked her about it she told me I shouldn't tell you, because the fancy lady made you sad,” Patty said.

There was a long silence before Holtzmann spoke.

“I didn't tell you because I didn't want to bust her.” The explanation felt awkward in her mouth, but it was the truth.

“You think I'd make you bust Erin?”

“I dunno. Maybe. Maybe we should have. Send her on her way, you know? Waiting a couple of decades for god-knows-what can't be pleasant.”

“For you. She's waiting for you,” Patty said. “And to be honest I hope she has to wait a lot longer.”

“Don't worry, Patty. I’m totally okay having two fine-ass bitches in the afterlife.” She paused. “Would suggesting a non-corporeal threesome be out of line?”

“Yes. I'm gonna pretend you never said that.” Patty kissed her. “And we’ll see when we both get there.” She pulled Holtzmann closer. “Dare I ask what happened here?” She asked, gesturing to the debris that surrounded them.

“I… uh. The PKE meter, I tried it and…” Holtzmann shrugged. “It didn't work. Nothing. So I smashed it and that felt good and so I was gonna smash other stuff but I know E.V. likes some of Becca’s toys so I… I figured it wouldn't hurt the Legos too much to, you know. Throw em around.”

“Okay. Speaking of E.V., she’ll be home from school pretty soon. Want a hand picking these up?” Patty asked.

“Yeah.” Holtzmann squeezed Patty tightly. “Thank you. This is the worst but you… even when there’s nothing left inside of me, you're my heart.”

 

—-

 

**2040**

By the time it was Holtzmann’s turn, E.V. was at Oxford, studying English, much to the delight of one of her mothers and consternation of the other.

“It’s OXFORD, Holtzy!”

“… literature?” A cocked head and a confused expression. “What will she do with a degree in literature?”

“Be the resident historian for the Ghostbusters?” Patty teased. Holtz put it together and grinned.

“Ah, but you are so much more than your Masters of the Arts, Pattycakes.”

 

—-

 

The accident was quick. Patty heard an explosion and a cry in the next room. When she rounded the corner, she saw Holtzmann doubled over, holding onto the table.

“Baby? What happened?”

Holtzmann tried to shrug. “Liiittle poof,” she said quietly before dropping to her knees.

Patty rushed to her, reached out as she toppled over. Her hands came back red and she saw where the twisted metal had sliced into Holtzmann’s abdomen.

“I’m calling 911,” she said in what she hoped was a reassuring voice. By the time she'd given them the address, Holtzmann was reaching out toward her.

“Patty… they won't get here in time. But it's okay. It's gonna be okay.”

“Positive thoughts Holtzy,” Patty insisted. She tried to put pressure on the wound but Holtzmann grabbed her hands away and held them tightly.

“Don't worry. They’ll be here any moment.”

“You hear the sirens?” Patty asked. She couldn't yet, but maybe Holtzmann had.

“No. Not them.” She gripped Patty’s hands tightly. “If she was waiting, why isn't she here yet? I can't do this by myself.”

“Baby, I'm here. You're not alone, I promise you." Patty blinked back tears, focusing on being the strong, calm rock that she knew Holtzmann needed. "I am here and I'll stay here until they drag me off.”

Holtzmann nodded. She seemed to relax. Her eyes, which had been shut tightly as she fought waves of pain, fluttered open. She looked past Patty and her face broke into a bright smile.

“There you are,” she mumbled. “I'm sorry you had to wait so long.”

Patty pressed her lips together tightly. She tried to fight the burst of hurt that was rising inside her. It was ridiculous to be jealous of a ghost, but it gutted her that after a lifetime together, her Holtzy’s heart still belonged to Erin Gilbert.

“I didn't know if you'd be fifteen now or if you would have stayed eight.”

Except it wasn't Erin.  Patty’s breath caught in her chest. She turned, hoping for a glimpse, the barest shimmer of awkwardly long limbs and brown curls but she saw nothing. She turned back in time to watch as Holtzmann’s eyes fluttered halfway closed.

“No no no,” Patty begged. “Open your eyes, Holtzy.”

“Pattycakes.” Holtzmann focused on Patty, seeming to see her clearly for the first time. “She doesn't look sick anymore."

“Stay with me baby. Please.”

“It's gonna… be okay…” Holtzmann said. She squeezed Patty’s hand. “I promise.”

 

—-

 

That night when Patty got back to the apartment, she sank into the couch. The space was too quiet. Too still. It didn't feel like home anymore.

She tried not to think of the dried blood on the floor of the next room. She’d thought there would be someone else who’d deal with that. It seemed cruel to leave a grieving family member the task, but apparently that was how it worked.

She'd hire someone. Have them gut the room, repaint, fill it with things she'd never seen before. Or maybe she'd just move, except how would she leave this place where she'd been happier than ever before?

There was the bathroom where Holtzmann triumphantly shrieked at two pink lines. (They’d been talking about adoption for more than a year, but one day Holtzy shrugged and said “Might be cheaper to DIY it? If we find a sperm bank that has a section for tall, beautiful black men who are fucking brilliant and love history, the kid would have a shot of ending up like you even if it has to come out of me.”)

There was the small second bedroom that had lived many lives. It began as Patty’s office, then they turned it into a nursery for Becca. It was Becca’s room for the first five years of her life, and then when Abby died Holtzmann replaced the simple twin bed with elaborate, welded metal bunkbeds and she screwed carefully painted nameplates that said “Becca” and “E.V.” to the door.

Three years, six rounds of chemo and a bone marrow transplant later, the room became E.V.’s alone. Seven years after Becca’s death, Patty looked down the hall at the closed door that still bore both names.

She called E.V., woke her up at 4 am London time.

“Mom?” The voice at the end of the line had answered. “What's wrong?”

 

\--

 

E.V. called them “Patty” and “Holtz” until a few months after Becca died, when she made the switch to “Mom” for both of them out of the blue. When Patty asked about it, thirteen year old E.V. pushed her glasses up on her nose and considered her reply.

“I don't have a mom and you don't have a daughter. So maybe we do that for each other,” she'd mumbled with a shrug.

"You've been our daughter since the moment we knew your mom wasn't going to make it," Patty said vehemently, crushing the lanky girl in a hug. "Do you know that before you were even born she asked us if we'd take care of you if something happened to her? At the time Holtzy and I were still dancing around things, trying to figure out what we were gonna be to each other. Erin was... it hadn't been very long since she passed, so it was complicated. Abby knew she was asking something big, so she said we should think about it."

"Did it take you a long time to decide?"

"No, baby. Abby was our family. Holtzy said, 'We're doing this' and I said, 'Of course we are.'" Patty smiled at the memory. "Then she looked at me, all nervous, and said, 'I'd be somebody's mother with you.' She tried to act like she was joking, but I knew her well enough to see through it. And suddenly I knew that I wanted that too." She stroked E.V.'s hair gently. "I wish Abby hadn't died, so we'd all still have her. But it's like Holtzy told your mom: you are a gift."

"A gift who definiiiiiitely didn't take out the trash last night like I asked her to," Holtzmann added. Patty looked up and saw her leaning in the doorway, smiling. Holtzmann tumbled onto the couch and sandwiched E.V. between them. "But a gift nonetheless."

 

\--

 

"Mom?"

"Hey baby." That was all it took, and E.V. knew.

“As soon as the phone rang I knew one of you was dead,” she explained a few days later. “I just didn't know which one until I heard your voice.”

E.V. was on a plane, coming home, but she wouldn't arrive for hours. Patty thought she should probably be doing something, making calls, arrangements, but instead she sat down on the couch and stared into space until she drifted off.

She woke up because she was cold. She reached for Holtzmann out of instinct, then wrenched her eyes open as she remembered why her hands came back empty.

There was a blue glow in the kitchen. Patty approached slowly.

The faded letter magnets on the fridge were rearranging themselves. “I'm sorry” they spelled out.

“Holtzy, I know you did not just apologize for dying.”

“Not sorry for dying” the letters spelled. “You’ll see.”

Suddenly the blue light brightened and coalesced in front of her. Instead of the woman she'd held this morning, this was the Holtzmann she met two decades before, all huge smile and dimples and blonde curly hair piled on her head.

“You look beautiful, baby.”

The grin widened and the ghost flashed a two fingered salute.

Patty watched as the glowing, transparent Holtzmann got a wicked look on her face.

“Oh hell no. Do not even think it.”

The ghost rolled her eyes and pointed to the fridge where the letters now read “I said sorry.” Sensing what was coming, Patty threw up her hands to shield her face seconds before she was covered in a massive wave of ectoplasm.

“I've been waiting my whole life to do that to somebody,” Holtzmann’s ghost whispered. The voice wasn't hers, not exactly, but the wink was, and Patty decided that was enough.

“I would kill you if you weren't already dead.”

“You love me.”

“Yeah. Always.”

Holtzmann shimmered. It reminded Patty of road trips to her cousin’s house in Louisiana, and the way the heat rising off the pavement distorted the scenery.

“I love you too. You're my heart.” A shrug, then a greater fluctuation in form. “I can't — this is harder than I thought. I'll see you when you get here, Pattycakes. And in the meantime I promise you will always have an audience while you pee.”

Another wink, one last grin and the blue light dissipated. Patty was alone again.

She’d never expected to be the last one standing, but there was a sense to it. They were the scientists; she was the historian. She was the one who lived to write the story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was fascinating how many people thought Holtzmann was going to be the last one left. In a way it would have made sense to inflict that on her, since she was the one they thought would go first, and since she was so terrified of being left alone. 
> 
> But in the end, it felt too cruel to me, and Patty-- well, Patty's a badass, and a historian, and she's got this quiet faith that makes me think she'll be okay on her own. 
> 
> As a side note, I wasn't sure about the addition of the kids to this fic, and struggled a lot with whether or not Becca would die. In an early version, she wasn't sick and had died in a drowning accident, but it felt too out of the blue and manipulative. 
> 
> There's another version of this fic with no kids at all, in which we jump from the freezing soup to Patty in 2036. She's alone in their apartment when Holtzmann's ghost appears, Holtzmann having died off-screen (so to speak) in a lab accident. And then we go on with the ecto-projecting. It was a much lighter story that way but I also wanted there to be more for Holtz than an unseen death and a moment of post-mortem humor. Thus The Saddest Thing I Have Ever Written (sorry not sorry).


	4. 2062

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> History remembers its heroes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And then there were none. 
> 
> Before I discovered the Ghostbusters fandom, I was a smut author who very rarely wrote short non-explicit pieces. The encouragement from this lovely corner of the world has pushed me to expand my horizons into explorations of themes that are way outside of my comfort zone. Thank you for sticking with me through this grief-fest. It's been a wonderful ride writing it.

In the dark, empty firehouse HQ of the Ghostbusters, the television flickered on. It started on a black and white rerun of "I Love Lucy," then flipped through several other channels before stopping on the image of a news anchor with greying hair.

“The last remaining founding member of The Ghostbusters has died," the man intoned solemnly. "We now go to reporter Marcia Gregory for a look back at a remarkable legacy.”

“Thanks Jim. Today, the building behind me is a museum. Forty-six years ago, the ground floor housed Zhu's Authentic Hong Kong Food. If you'd been here then and climbed the stairs to the second floor, you would have been standing in the original headquarters of the Ghostbusters.

The Ghostbusters rose to fame after they prevented the destruction of New York City during The Battle of Times Square in 2016. Last night the final founding member, Patty Tolan, passed away at the age of 84. I was fortunate enough to interview her six years ago, when she earned her doctorate in history from NYU. "Joyful" is the best word I can find to describe Tolan, a native New Yorker who was the resident historian and archivist of the group she began with scientists Dr. Abby Yates, Dr. Jillian Holtzmann and Dr. Erin Gilbert.

Heroism is not without its great losses, and the Ghostbusters were hit with their first soon after their greatest victory. Gilbert, a particle physicist who rejected an offer of tenure at Columbia to serve the public good as a Ghostbuster, was killed by a malevolent entity during a bust in late 2017. History remembers Gilbert as an articulate and fearless woman who as at-home wielding a proton shotgun as she was fundraising for "Like a Girl," the non-profit she created to encourage young girls to choose careers in the sciences. "Like a Girl" continues its work today, awarding more than $600,000 in scholarships to extraordinary students every year. Gilbert is also remembered for her work as the co-author of “Ghosts of Our Past: Both Literally and Figuratively,” a groundbreaking tome she penned with fellow Ghostbuster Abby Yates.

Abby Yates began her career as a distinguished scientist, but her lasting legacy is as the author of seven books about the paranormal. Two of them are complex, highly academic works that would fly over the heads of most PhDs, but the bestselling volumes were those she wrote for the masses. The most beloved of these was “The Kid Whose Best Friend Was a Ghost,” a children's book that helped show a generation that not all ghosts were scary. Even though the Ghostbusters had no official leader, by all accounts Yates was their anchor. When she passed away in 2026 after a long illness, Holtzmann and Tolan chose to pass the torch to a new team. Yates's legacy lives on, in the children who are inspired to be brave by her book, and in her daughter Erin Valentine, named for Gilbert and called “E.V.”

Jillian Holtzmann was the charismatic genius who invented the technology that made ghost-busting possible. Much is known about her work, which changed the face of several industries, but she lived a private life. Tax records show she gave much of what she earned from the hundreds of patents she held to charity, including Gilbert’s “Like a Girl” scholarship fund. Holtzmann also established four safe spaces for homeless gay and lesbian youth: Yates House in Chinatown, Gilbert House in Morningside Heights, Tolan House in Astoria, and the eponymous Holtzmann House in Dyker Heights. After her retirement from the Ghostbusters, Holtzmann’s work focused on the development of durable bionic limbs. She made great advances in the field before she was killed in a tragic lab accident in 2040.

Patty Tolan and Jillian Holtzmann were married in 2019. They had two daughters: Rebecca, who passed away in 2029 at the age of eight, and E.V., who they raised as their own after the death of her mother Abby.

Tolan outlived her wife by 22 years. She never remarried. During our interview six years ago, she spoke candidly about the loss of Yates, Gilbert, and even Rebecca, but when I asked her to tell me about Holtzmann, she fell silent. After much thought, she asked to move on to the next question.

Tonight The New York City skyline is lit up, with the windows of skyscrapers spelling out messages of thanks to the original Ghostbusters, one last time. A new team is in place at the firehouse, ready to come to the rescue if there’s something strange in your neighborhood. It includes E.V. Yates, who walks in the footsteps of the three women she called “Mom” every time she straps on her proton pack. In title, Yates is the Ghostbuster’s historian; during our interview, Tolan described her as “their heart.”

Even though the four brave women who began it are now all ghosts themselves, the Ghostbusters legacy will live on. Their research never led to concrete answers about the afterlife, but I hope that that wherever they are, whatever comes next, the heroes of the Battle of Times Square have been reunited tonight.

I'm Marcia Gregory, reporting live from Chinatown for ABC7, Eyewitness News.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of the facts of the news report, like Erin "turning down" tenure, are incorrect. The little details are sometimes finessed by history and time into a better, more flattering story.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Dum Vivimus, Vivamus (While we live, let us live)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9683879) by [SETI_fan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SETI_fan/pseuds/SETI_fan)




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